


Doctor's Orders

by Milfomancer



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Doctor/Patient, F/M, Prostate Massage, Seteth is a sub at heart, and Manuela discovers she loves to bully older men, lewd forehead kisses, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24556489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milfomancer/pseuds/Milfomancer
Summary: Seteth needs Manuela's help to cure a poison he is afflicted with. In an unpredictable turn of events, the only way to cure it is rather lewd.
Relationships: Manuela Casagranda/Seteth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheRecorder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRecorder/gifts).



Linhardt closes his eyes in concentration before focusing on the puncture wound in Seteth’s abdomen. The bishop swallows, putting the sight of Seteth’s blood-soaked chest in the back of his mind.

“I can stitch up the wound and knit your bowels back together but… I don’t think stab wounds are supposed to be that color.” Linhardt pulls a small clear vial from his belt and begins to hand it to his patient.

“Save your anti-toxin, Linhardt. I know it won’t do me any good. You -,” he doubles over in pain, scrunching his eyes with a small hiss escaping his clenched mouth, “You need to take me to Manuela.” Seteth struggles to his feet, “Help Me.”

Linhardt gives him a shoulder to lean on. The bishop gives a worried look around, but nobody else is free _._ He almost falls over as Seteth’s legs buckle beneath him. Linhardt reaches his hand around Seteth’s waist, taking care to avoid gripping near his recent wound. He grimaces as his hand slides on a patch of warm blood.

* * *

Soon after, Seteth is lying in one of the Medical Corps’ wagons. He breathes deeply to steady his nerves. The shooting pain from his groin to the crown of his head is nearly unbearable. Manuela climbs aboard, wiping her hands.

“I _thought_ I Heard Somebody Cry. My, my Seteth, this is what you get for flying about at our age.” She lifts his red-stained shirt to see his skin almost unblemished, white magic having left only a faint scar. Manuela’s furrows her brow as she traces a gloved finger over his stomach.

Seteth’s grunt of pain snaps Manuela back to her patient. “What’s wrong, Seteth? You don’t have any visible wound and you wouldn't have sent the von Hevring boy to get me if it was a simple poisoning or toxin. What did you need me for?”

A shaky hand claps against Manuela’s leg. “Lift your dress.”

“Oh, _Seteth!_ ” Manuela scoffs, but complies anyway. She _was_ rather proud of her legs. Probably her third-best feature. “I can’t say I’m not flattered but I am sur- hee!” She gives a little yelp as Seteth runs his clammy hand up the length of her thigh, before grabbing a metal flask attached to her upper thigh. He clumsily unfastens the top and quickly throws back a swig. He fills his mouth with a second mouthful before his eyes go wide and he spits it out over his uniform.

Seteth retches, coughing out, “Manuela, you drink wood grain alcohol on the battlefield?”

“That was obviously alcohol for disinfecting wounds, Seteth.” Manuela says, her hand reaching to her other leg. “You having a Dead Man’s Party or something?” She spins open its cap, and props Seteth up a bit. He takes a measured swig. Unlike his first drink it, goes down easily. He takes another gulp. There was a strange smokiness that seemed to travel down to his stomach. He lifted his hand to take another swig before Manuela stopped his hand with a look of concern on her face.

“Hey, hey, slow down there, slugger. Mind telling me why you’re hounding for hooch so bad? I don’t want you drinking that flask dry just because you can’t wait until we get back to the castle to take the edge off.”

Seteth sighs. He realizes he had just been rather rude. Now that the piercing pain that ran from his groin to the top of his head has been reduced to a dull throbbing below his stomach and behind his eyes, he can think clearly.

“I’m sorry, Manuela. I was poisoned by a magical weapon, and I know from experience that alcohol can … stunt the symptoms.” Manuela sits by in horror as Seteth finishes the rest of her flask. Having drained the vessel, Seteth lies back down, slipping off into a feverish sleep.

Manuela sighs. She signals to the driver, and the wagon lurches forward. She brings the flask to her lips, but not even a drop falls out. The singer sits down and crosses her legs.

“That was 86 year old whiskey,” she pouts. “Jerk.”

* * *

Manuela sits at her desk, pouring through a small stack of books. It had been 3 days, and Seteth had barely been awake for more than a few minutes at a time and was barely coherent. That was fine with Manuela. During one of his brief moments of lucidity, Seteth directed her to collect books from his room, he said they would describe his condition. It hadn’t taken long for her to find a passage describing his exact symptoms, down to the condition being slowed by alcohol intake. It is the treatment to cure him that bothers her.

The songstress is snapped from her consternation by a stirring behind the curtains surrounding Seteth’s bed. She walks over, her heels clicking loudly on the floor, and draws the curtain back.

Seteth gives a sheepish grin. “Good morning, Doctor.” He attempts to grabs the glass of water on the nightstand beside him, but only succeeds in sort of slumping his arm around a bit. He frowns, but turns back to Manuela and his pleasant smile returns. “How um, how long have I been out?”

“About 76 hours. It's about 9 at night.”

“Oh. I feel okay. Well, except I can’t really move my everything.”

“Your tongue seems fine. I’ve had you hooked up to a literal cocktail for the past three days. It seems to have stopped your pain, but I’m not entirely convinced the collective hangover won’t kill you.”

Seteth’s eyes wander behind Manuela, to the books on her desk. “How did you…?”

“About 2 days ago you grabbed my ass and told me to grab the pile of books in your chest in your room. I couldn’t find them at first so I had to go through _everything_ in your room…”

Seteth’s eyes begin to open in abject horror. “You w-went through all my st-,” he starts, but is cut off by Manuela’s laughter.

“Oh, I’m sorry Seteth, I’m only teasing. I had Flayn go collect them, calm down.” She takes a deep breath. “I found the section on your… condition. Including it’s… treatment.”

The slight rosy tint left the Saint’s cheeks. “Ah. Yes. I believe I will be able to, um, _handle_ that myself.”

“Seteth it’s been 3 days. You can still barely move, and, regardless of what I may present otherwise, the human body was not meant to be taking in a shot an hour, every hour!”

“It's Just Another Day. Sure I can't move _now,_ but-,”

“No, no buts. As your _medical professional_ , I’m saying you need this treatment, even if it is some Weird Science. As the person whose office you are sleeping in, I’m saying I’m going to make you come that poison out of you so I can get my fucking bed back.”

Manuela turns and locks the door to her quarters. She had not counted on Seteth being completely unable to move himself. She takes another deep breath. _At least she had worn good underwear today._

“Alright,” Manuela says, dawning a pair of white gloves. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… alright. Yes. Please, continue.” His cheeks are no longer a light shade of alcohol-induced pink, but a now a full embarrassed scarlet.

Manuela unbuckles his trousers, sliding them down and off. She then unbuttons his shirt, giving it room to push up his chest. Dark green hair covers his stomach, shallow breaths showing the muscles Seteth hid behind his bulky robes.

“Well, let’s get this soldier up and at attention, then.” Manuela leans into Seteth’s side, wrapping her hand around his cock. The slight gasp as the cold rubber touches him does not escape her notice. She begins to stroke him up and down.

Her enthusiasm fades a few minutes later when there is no change in Seteth’s situation. She stops, “I just realized you probably have a serious case of whiskey dick, Seteth.”

“Are you saying that just to soothe my pride, or…”

“Have you had this issue before?”

“No.”

“Well, you aren’t that old, Seteth. Not old enough to be having _this_ problem, anyway. I would just pop you a few pills but… not with so much alcohol in your system.” She smirks, cuddling her chest up to his face. “Or, am I just not your type?” Another wave of red flashes over his face, and Manuela feels her own rush of satisfaction.

"I think I've changed my mind. No One Lives Forever. Just pour the rest of the booze into me and let me die."

She laughs.

“No, I’m medically diagnosing you with whiskey dick. No worries.” She remembers her flask of aged whiskey that Seteth had guzzled a few days ago. A devious smile crosses her lips.

“Luckily, there’s more than one way to milk a cow, Seteth.” Manuela briefly searches through her desk before producing a bottle of lubricant. She sits down next to Seteth, and spreads his legs. “Don’t worry, this won’t be my first time doing this. I’m practically a pro!”

“Practically a professional at wh- ah!” A look of surprise is plastered across his face as Manuela rubs her slick gloved finger up and down his ass. He takes a deep breath and swallows. “O-oh.”

“Be a good boy, and _relax_. Let Doctor Casagranda take care of you,” she coos into his ear, slowly pushing her finger into him. Gently stroking his pine-colored hair, she lets him adjust to her.

“How are you feeling, dear?”

Seteth tried to keep his normal nonplussed look, but all of his breath seemed to be stuck in his throat. He croaks out a “Fine.”

Manuela smiles, “Such a trooper. Come on Seteth, breathe — I’ll be gentle, I promise.” With that, she curls her finger up, sliding it along the tight walls that pulse around her. A soft bump and small gasp from Seteth tell Manuela all she needs to know. She continues, “Did that feel good?” She presses a little harder, slowly rocking back and forth.

A short moan escapes Seteth’s lips. Manuela never expected such a cute noise to come from the prim-and-proper Seteth, Rhea’s right-hand-man Seteth. This only spurred Manuela to start thrusting in earnest, making sure to keep bumping against his prostate.

It wasn’t long before Seteth was sighing, his ragged breaths in time with Manuela’s prodding. Precum smeared his stomach where his cock dripped and leaked against him. Suddenly, the songstress removed her finger. Another whimper found its way from Seteth’s mouth.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. I’m glad you’re enjoying my treatment though.” She removes her glove, putting on a fresh one. This time she smears both her middle and ring finger with a generous squirt of lube. “Would you like me to continue?”

Seteth pouts. The contrast of his usual seriousness with his cute expression sends another jolt through Manuela’s chest. “Yes, please.”

Remembering how he had drank the last of her age whiskey, Manuela continues to tease her patient. “I’m sorry, Seteth, the doctor can’t quite hear you.” She smiles an evil grin.

Seteth purses his lips, but quickly submits. “Yes, please, Doctor Casagrand-ah!” His response is cut off by the sensation of Manuela pushing in her two fingers. She quickly relocates the tiny bump that had turned the Wyvern rider into a panting mess. Once situated, she turns back to watch Seteth’s reaction. He quickly averts his eyes away in a very obvious manner. Hard to do with barely any motor function below the jaw. Only then did Manuela realize her thrusting had been causing her to shimmy her bust quite a bit.

“Oh Seteth, you _dog_!” She giggles and leans over to whisper in his ear, “It _is_ awful warm in here, isn't it?” Using her free hand, she pulled her top down. She pushes her ample bust into his cheeks. Another flash of red streaks across Seteth’s face. Manuela gives a sultry moan as she feels him clamp down around her fingers. “Oh dear, you’re absolutely _burning up_ , Seteth! Let me cool you down.”

Still keeping her thrusting rhythm, Manuela places a few wet kisses on Seteth’s ears and forehead. She proceeds to gently blow across her kisses, taking extra care to tease his ears. Her patient’s panting devolves to a series of low moans and whimpers. His breaths are getting shallower, and what little he can squirm, he does.

Manuela applies a little extra pressure upwards with her thrusts. “Are you close, my patient?” She whispers quietly into his ear.

Seteth nods, and Manuela slows her fingers, a pout forming on her face.

“Ah, ah – Yes, Doctor Casagranda,” he says between gasps.

A genuine smile crosses her face, and she returns to her previous pace, causing a shiver to run down her partner’s body. Slick strings of precum form a wet arc under his navel. Manuela gazes at the little work of art she helped create. _It could do with a few more splatters, though_ , she thinks mischievously. 

Manuela begins to forgo thrusting and instead focuses just on pressing into Seteth’s gland over and over, faster and harder. The songstress leans in close one more time, making sure her tits drag across his arm a little. She whispers, “Doctor’s order, Seteth, I need you to _come_.”

As if on cue, Seteth’s whimpers turned to full-fledged moans and wails as his cock gushes out several ropes of opaque white fluid. Manuela continues to pump until he stops. Gently, she removes her fingers and admires her handiwork.

Seteth is an absolute puddle, his stomach coated in his own climax, panting like he had just run a marathon. He flops his arm across his eyes, as if to try and hide his beet-red face. _I'm not the Same Man I Was Before,_ he thinks.

“Such a good job, my patient! Look, you’re already almost moving again! Still, Stay right there.” Seteth wiggled his toes and realized he had moved his arm. It wasn’t all back, but he was certainly feeling better.

“Y-Yes, I think I can move a little more now, so -,” he starts but is cut off when Manuela climbs on to the bed, straddling his face.

“Good, because I need your help to fill a prescription,” Manuela said forcefully. She pulls aside her soaked panties and runs a hand through Seteth’s green locks. “That book said we need to milk you dry, and I’m not letting you have all the fun. If you think you're going to be the only one getting off tonight, you must be living in some sort of Fool's Paradise. Consider this your doctor’s fee,” she says as she pulls his face up to her wet pussy. She groans at the sensation she hasn’t felt in years. “Mmm, I think I’ll have to be running tests through the night. You can handle it though, dear. Doctor’s orders.”


End file.
